


Safe

by vials



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: James is the #1 cause of stress in Q's life, M/M, Q doesn't care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7688779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vials/pseuds/vials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is seriously injured on the field, and Q doesn’t think he’s ever been more terrified in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

Medical was a mess, as it always was when a mission went as catastrophically wrong as the most recent one had. The amount of activity did nothing for Q’s nerves – he had hoped it would have died down by the time he had finished tying up all the loose ends, and the fact that that wasn’t the case only brought it home to him just how horrifically everything had gone. He’d had to pull rank to even get this far, something he was loathe to do except in the most extreme of circumstances.

He finally managed to find a nurse who didn’t look as though he were doing anything too important, grabbing him by the arm as he skidded to a stop in the hallway.

“Bond,” Q said. “Do you know where he is?”

“They uh –” the nurse said, his eyes quickly flicking to Q’s ID badge and then back to his face. “They just put him in recovery, sir, but I don’t think there are any visitors allowed yet.”

“Well if anyone asks, tell them it was very important and very classified,” Q said quickly, already hurrying in the direction the nurse had pointed.

Ordinarily, Q would have considered the lack of commotion coming from James’s room a good thing. Right now, it just further brought home the severity of what had happened. If James wasn’t even trying to sweettalk some of the nurses into letting him out to “recover” at home, that meant he was either unable to do so, or something had happened that was so serious even James knew better than to ask.

Q found the room, quickly looked down the hall in both directions, and then cracked the door handle down and slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him. Then he took a deep breath and turned around, trying to prepare himself for what he might see.

He hadn’t been prepared. He didn’t think he would ever have been able to prepare for the state James was in. What wasn’t bandaged up was bruised, dried blood still evident on some of the bare patches of skin. Q crept forward, trying to keep his breathing steady. There was a string of nasty bruises around James’s throat, and Q didn’t want to remember how he had got them, when Q had been helpless on the comms and convinced he was going to hear James die.

“Fuck,” Q whispered, blinking back tears. He sat down heavily in one of the chairs, dragging it close enough to the bed that he could weave his hand through the many wires monitoring James’s vitals and grasp his hand. His fingers were cold and Q rubbed them gently, trying to get some warmth into them. “James? Can you hear me? It’s me. It’s alright. You’re back.”

James didn’t visibly react, but Q swore he heard a brief change in the steady beeps of the heart monitor. He leaned a little closer, hoping James knew he was there.

“They think I’m down here for something classified,” Q told him, laughing weakly. “I don’t think that story would have held up if I told a nurse who’d seen you. You never know, though. Maybe I’ll tell them I had to pick up some equipment they don’t know about. Something that’ll take a long time and will absolutely require me sitting here until you wake up.”

_If you wake up_ , Q thought, and quickly tried to ignore it. He blinked again, feeling some of the tears had begun to make their way down his cheeks. He sniffed, taking a deep breath.

“Listen to me,” he said, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “It’s not like you’ve never been banged up before, is it? You’ll be alright. You always are.”

He looked at James’s hand, fingers loosely entwined with his own, and just wanted to cry harder. It was one thing having James here physically, but he wouldn’t rest until he knew he was absolutely alright. He had no idea how long that would be.

“You better not be trying to get out of any trouble, either,” Q said quietly, giving a weak smile. “You were an absolute _idiot_ , James Bond. Which is nothing unusual, all things considering, but you really took the cake this time. You should have let us know. We could have done something sooner. Why didn’t you text me back, or swap lines, or even shoot off a quick email, for Christ’s sake. We would have worked out what was going on. We wouldn’t have had to leave you there for that extra time if you’d just let us know. That’s what we’re here for, James. To get you out of trouble when you inevitably find yourself in it.”

Q took another deep breath, feeling his words beginning to grow unsteady. He blinked rapidly, feeling his eyelashes sticking together, and pushed his chair forward a little more so he could lay his head beside James’s hand, closing his eyes tightly.

“Alright, I’ve given you your lecture. You can wake up now,” Q said thickly. “You don’t have to hear it again. You can wake up. Wake up, James. _Please_.”

It was hearing the crack in the final word that finally forced the tears through. Q clenched his free hand and bit at his fist, trying to be as quiet as possible, his shoulders shaking and his face damp and hot even with his eyes closed. He took several shuddering breaths, trying desperately to calm down. He couldn’t lose the plot right now. Not when James needed him.

Q took a final steadying breath, gently moving James’s hand and bringing it to his lips. His hand felt warmer now, which Q hoped was encouraging; he sat up, still feeling slightly shaky and lightheaded, and gave James’s hand a gentle squeeze.

James squeezed back.

Q couldn’t help it – he let out a gasp. James’s eyes were barely open but he managed a small smile when he heard it, and quite suddenly Q found himself on the verge of tears again.

“James,” he said, standing so he could lean over and let James see him properly. “James, it’s alright. Take it easy.”

“’M fine,” James mumbled, and Q snorted.

“You sure don’t look it,” he said, reaching out to stroke at James’s hair. “Rest, OK? The more you rest, the sooner they’ll let you out of here.”

“You’ll stay?” James asked, his voice raspy, and Q nodded, smiling even though he had to blink back tears.

“I’ll be here,” he said. “Sleep. You’re safe. Everything’s fine.”

James smiled again, stronger this time, and closed his eyes. Q sat back down, taking James’s hand again.

“Love you, Q,” James said, his words slightly slurred with exhaustion and medication, and Q squeezed his hand again.

“I love you too, James. Rest. I’ll be here.”


End file.
